Dead Poets Society
by MrTicklepaws
Summary: Conrad makes a discovery about Worth, much to his delight, and much to Worth's dismay. Canon fic set in DesdemonaKaylose's Postapocaverse. Where does this happen in the timeline? Somewhere in the vague future! Official timeline will have this pic posted in it once we have a set spot. Enjoy!


Conrad hadn't intended to be a snoop. That wasn't his thing, really. He understood that people had secrets and that people wanted to keep them, well, secret, and most of the time when you found someone's secret it just led to all sorts of issues.

Conrad didn't like issues. He especially didn't like dealing with them.

But he had been cleaning, you see, and cleaning was just sort of a thing. He liked order, he liked tidiness, he liked not leaving dirty socks in strange places for cats to chew up and vomit out in other strange places. He always found these items with his bare feet. So to prevent such things, one could either put their dirty clothes and random assorted items in normal places, or, be like Worth, and just do whatever you wanted and expect someone else to clean up after you.

This was how Conrad, completely by accident, discovered Worth's secret.

This was how Conrad, completely by accident, was filled with the cold, cruel joy known as schadenfreude.

Gently, nearly reverently, he cradled his discovery in his arms, carrying it like a delicate newborn babe out from the back of the camper to the cramped living area. He leaned against the kitchenette counter and smiled at the spindly pain in the ass currently sprawled across the booth seating. In his hand was a plastic stick. Attached to the plastic stick was a long string, ending in feathers that fluttered and spun as he twirled the toy around. "Worth. Could you please stop playing with the cats for a few minutes?"

Worth grunted. "Tol' ya. I ain't playin' with 'em."

An especially cross-eyed cat called "Blind Asshole" made a leap at the feathers, missed, and landed on "Stumpy", one of the two cats missing a limb. The other cat missing a limb was called "Three-legs." Clearly, creative naming had not been their strong suit. Finding kittens that no one wanted, however, well, Worth was impressive in that arena.

White, a cat who was, unsurprisingly, white, and also, unsurprisingly deaf, rubbed up against Conrad's shins. They assumed she was deaf, though Worth sometimes insisted she just had selective hearing and chose to ignore annoying fags ("An' by that I mean you, if ya ain't keepin' up, sugartits"). Conrad was ignoring her for the moment, gaze set on the scratchy handwriting before him. "Praytell, Cat Whisperer, what it is you're doing if you're not playing with them."

"I'm _trainin' _'em. Gonna be stone cold killers in no time."

"Oh, yes. You're doing a simply fantastic job of that."

"'Course I am. Watch." The feathers danced and landed on the table top, with Three-legs in hot pursuit. Three-legs proudly grasped the feathers in her mouth, flopping over on her side to kick at them with her hind feet. "Yeah! Atta girl! Show 'em who's boss!"

"I would really appreciate if you didn't encourage them to jump on the table. We've had this discussion _numerous_ times."

"Jumpin' 's good fer 'em. Builds strength 'n' endurance. Yer gonna sit here 'n' bitch till yer blue in th' face, which, well, Christ, ya kinna already are, ain'tcha? But soon's a Hagraven comes screechin' in here, pro'lly attracted by yer goddamn karaoke, an' th' cats take her down, yer gonna thank me."

Conrad took a moment to look away from his stash of joy to give Worth a withering look. "Hagravens are as tall as you are, but with twice the strength and naturally occurring magic. I'm fairly certain housecats aren't going to bring one down. And I sing perfectly well, thank you very much. If anything is going to attract a Hagraven, it'll be you. Don't act like you don't remember the time you sang "Rainin' Men.""

"Don't remember it. Was drunk. 'Sides," he continued, freeing the feathers from Three-legs' grasp with a quick flick of his wrist,"I was jus' doin' my best impression of yer own sweet tones."

"Ha, you know what? Let's get back on track, somehow drunk and not remembering but clearly remembering it pain in the dick. I'd like to discuss something I found in the bedroom."

"Man's gotta have some outlets fer his needs an' ya know them Playboy magazines're worth their damn weight in gold."

"Worth."

"Cocksuckin' love a my life." The "cat trainer" paused the feather swinging to turn, grin, and bat his eyes at Conrad. "By life I mean dick, y'know. Wan'ed ter be clear."

Ignoring the bait for the time being, Conrad waved his treasured find in the air. "Would you like to read what I have here?"

With a shrug of shoulders, Worth's attention returned to the horde of cats. "Nope. 'm busy trainin'."

"Of course, well," Conrad took a dramatic breath, unable to prevent a grin from curling his mouth, "I'll just read to you, then. How about that? Since you're clearly involved in important work."

"Mmm hmm. Glad ya finally recognize it."

"Well then, let me begin." He now cleared his throat, deciding to allow a bit of brain-damaged accent to rough up the words. "Roses 're red, violets 're blue, I like yer ass, lemme fuck you."

Silence from the booth created a stirring of mirth in Conrad's still chest. He laid the worn sheet of paper down on the counter, moving on to an ink covered scrap of fabric. "Shall I compare thee ter a summer day? Whatever, yer real gay."

"...Christ. Where'd ya find those?"

"Oh, you know that pile of socks I've been reminding you to clean? They were in a box under them."

"...Might...might not've been sober when I did them."

"I see. This one is truly creative genius. Th' fountains mingle with th' river, an' th' rivers with th' ocean. Achenleck sounds kinna Jew-y, I'll give ya a handjob with lotion."

"I dunno. Sounds pretty thoughtful ter me."

"Nothin' in th' world is single, all things by law divine. In one spirit meet an' mingle, why not my dick with thine?"

Worth had given up holding the cat toy in favor of leaning forward with his face in his hands.

"Ah and here we even have a haiku! Oh, Connie. Let's form th' beast with two backs. I may even let you top. You know, I never realized just how much of a classy romantic you really are, Worth. To think, all this time I've missed out."

The booth remained silent. White had given up on attention from Conrad and had wormed her way onto Worth's lap.

"There are so many that it's difficult to choose which great work of art to read from next."

"Ya could, y'know. Not. Thass a choice, too. 's a good one."

"Oh no, I couldn't. Such masterpieces really ought to be shared with the world. Here's another." He slid into the booth, hip and thigh pressing against the doctor's as he began to read from another poem. "I don't know how ter say th' things I hold in my chest. They make me sick, writhin' inside me, chokin' me inter silence when I try ter speak th' words. I shiver when yer skin brushes against mine, touches brief an' cruel like wind across frost."

Conrad blinked. Swallowed. Hesitated. "Oh, I'm not familiar with this one, hmm. It doesn't look finished, either. Sort of just," he scanned the document quickly, fang briefly worrying his lower lip, "cuts off."

There was no help from Worth, merely a stiff line of shoulders and a face hidden behind worn hands.

"Well, you know. Maybe not that one. It doesn't look finished and you don't want to rush genius, so, we'll just stop for now, maybe? Yes, that, yes. Yes we'll stop for now and I'll let you finish that one on your own." The pages fell limply to the table top and, after a moment of thought, Conrad flipped them over to rest face-first on the table. Somehow that made him feel slightly less awkward.

"Yer bleedin'."

"I-what?"

A rough thumb grazed over Conrad's lower lip, muddied red smeared across the skin. "Worried yer goddamn lip right open again. Oughter knock that shit off already."

"Oh, um...right. Sorry." Ugh, why was he apologizing?

"Ain't gotta apologize ter me."

Instantly, Conrad bristled. "I'm not!"

Worth's eyebrows rose as he leaned back in the booth. "Sure sounds like."

"Well I'm not, so...so there."

A whistle tore free from Worth's lips. "Well that sure tol' me, didn't it? Stingin' reply, sweetheart. Might carry that burn as a permanent emotional scar."

"Oh fuck you."

"Offerin'?"

"..."

Eyebrows lowered, eyes narrowing. "I ain't hearin' a no, darlin'."

Conrad crossed his arms, pursing his lips. "...Jew-y name? Really?"

"I dunno. Th' fuck kinna name's Achenleck?"

"What the fuck kind of name is Luce?"

"Regal. Manly." Worth scratched his chest, then examined his nails. "Becomin' of a fine specimen like myself."

Conrad snorted. "I'll put some treats out to distract the cats. I want you in the back with your pants off in five minutes."

"Kin do, but their trainin' is gonna suffer. I think Blondie was about ter have a real breakthrough."

Conrad could feel himself losing the battle against the laughter simmering in his cheeks. The best he could manage was a jaw clenched. "_Worth_."

Worth grinned and replied simply, "_Yes, dear_."


End file.
